


The One Where Team Free Will Go to a Museum... (With a Sexology Department)

by DarthKawaii42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward, Fluff, Funny, M/M, museum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4743728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthKawaii42/pseuds/DarthKawaii42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters finally have a free day, and they want to do something a little different for a change. Sam thinks it might be fun to go to a museum, and Dean is reluctant until he discovers that there is a department of sexology there, so it might be worth it for a giggle right? That is until Cas shows up and starts to question almost every item, especially the lewd ones, and Dean is forced to explain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Team Free Will Go to a Museum... (With a Sexology Department)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a fic based on a place my friend went to with her family which was really kinda awkward as there genuinely was a sexology department, and a survey where someone had written some amusingly sarcastic comments, and, me being the Destiel trash I am, I could only think of what would happen if Dean and Cas had to go there together... Hope you guys like how it turned out^^

"Finally, we have a day off! A whole day with no supernatural sons-of-bitches who want our heads on spikes," sighs Dean happily, taking a long, lazy sip of coffee and putting his feet up on the motel desk. In the mirror before him, he catches a glimpse of Sam scowling at his impoliteness and Dean flashes his brother a mischievous grin, making a very deliberate shift in his seat to get more comfortable. Remarkably, Sam doesn't comment.

"I think we should go do something for a change, rather than sit around on our asses all day drinking," he says instead, though not without a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I happen to enjoy sitting around on my ass all day drinking," Dean replies, pretending to sound hurt, and plops his now empty mug down, leaving a coffee stain ring on the bare wood.

Sam stands up and pushes the back of Dean's chair, spinning it round in a swift, angry movement. He would've fallen off if he didn't have good enough reactions to grab the desk and slam his feet down on the floor to steady himself. "Okay, okay, you've made your point! What d'you wanna do?" he asks sulkily, righting himself in his chair again and glaring at his brother. He knows he is unlikely to be particularly keen on anything Sam suggests, but at this point he can see no other option but to go along with it anyway.

Dean sees his little brother's face light up and suddenly feels a little more lenient towards anything he might suggest. Well, almost anything. His heart sinks again as Sam declares cheerfully, "I've heard there's a pretty cool museum over in D.C., we could spend a couple days there!"

'Cool' is not a word Dean thinks should ever be used to describe a museum, unless it is in, I don't know, Alaska or somewhere. Or maybe if it concerned rock music, classic cars or - guilty pleasure - old movies. All of which were highly unlikely.

"Well, I'm sure it's a  _very_  cool museum, but I will be forced to give this one a miss due to --" theatrically, he pretends to cough, "Due to, uh, illness. Pretty sure the only cure is to sit around on my ass all day drinking."

For that he is rewarded with one of Sam's best bitch-faces, although it is quickly replaced by a look of smug determination.

"Well, get this," he drags his laptop over and flings open the lid, scrolling hastily down the museum's webpage until he finds what he is looking for and points to it on the screen. "They have a department you may be interested in, Dean."

"' _Department of Sexology_ '?! Is this some kinda joke? That is not a real thing, surely to Hell..."

"It is, honest," replies Sam. "Now you're curious, right?"

Trying to act offended, Dean scoffs, "What? No! How freakin' immature do you think I am?" Sam opens his mouth to speak but Dean cuts him off. "Actually, don't answer that."

"So are you gonna come with me or not?"

There is a moment of silence as Dean considers this. "D'you think Cas can come with us?" he finally asks, quietly. 

Sam laughs. "So you can take him to the sex department?!"

Dean feels a sudden prickly sensation in the back of his neck as an unwelcome blush creeps into his cheeks. "I didn't mean that!" he snaps.

Sam shakes his head as his laughter subsides. "I know you're in love with him, Dean, but I don't think you can expect him to pop down from Heaven to go to a museum with you just 'cause you think it'll be boring."

"What?! I-I'm not in love with him! He's a freakin'  _angel_! And a  _dude_!" Dean cries, but his obvious blushing deceives him and they both know it. Truth be told, Dean has been having...  _suspicions_... recently, that maybe he  _does_  like the angel a little too much to be totally platonic -- how his heart races when he sees him, how his palms go all clammy, how he seems to lose the ability to form coherent sentences and how his favourite colour is suddenly the sparkling blue of his eyes. Of course, Sam has noticed it too, and it is becoming clearer and clearer to Dean that he is trying to set them up.

"Well, okay, fine," hisses Dean, trying to change the subject as much as anything. "I guess I could tag along. Not because of the sex department though!"

Sam grins and rolls his eyes -- Dean's sudden change of heart and obviously piqued interest have not gone unnoticed -- then he shuts down his laptop and slides it into his bag. "We're gonna need to leave pretty soon if we're gonna get there in time."

"Yeah, I know. I'll pack up and get Baby running."

***

The Impala growls to a halt in the parking lot of the museum and the Winchesters soon enter. It is an expansive complex made up of several large, old buildings, their fronts lined with pillars standing proud and tall like sentries.

It's free to enter with contributions only voluntary, and although Dean wants to look around first and then decide whether he wants his money to go towards keeping the place open or buying the next copy of  _Busty Asian Beauties_ , Sam insists upon donating immediately. He also shoves a survey into Dean's hands, telling him that "if you're not gonna donate, you can at least offer a reason why not."

***

They have, however, seen most of the museum by the time Dean remembers he is meant to have answered the questionnaire. Sam is over on the other side of the hall, looking at some stuff about Gandhi, and Dean has started to become really bored now.

Spotting a bench at the side of the room, Dean sits himself down and produces the survey and an old ball pen (he smiles at the words running down its side --  _Singer's Auto_ ) before starting to fill it out.

The first questions are fine, all the usual stuff about who you are and where you come from. Of course, being on wanted lists in most of the U.S., where both Sam and Dean are, as far as the authorities know, dead, and not to mention all the various demons and other beings who actually want that to be true, he is not about to answer this questionnaire very truthfully.

' _Name: Angus Young_ '  
First classic rock reference of the day.

' _Hometown: Lawrence, Kansas'_  
Well, whatever. Loads of people have lived there.

' _Relationship status...'_  
What is this, a matchmaking service? Still, it is with a strange, almost disappointed feeling (and only a  _very_  brief thought of Cas, honest) that Dean circles ' _single_ '.

He is annoyed to have to circle the ' _30-50 years_ ' bracket in ' _Age_ ', then, feeling kinda pissed off at this ridiculously intrusive piece of paper, he decides to start making it a little more enjoyable for himself.

' _Q) Favourite part of the museum?_  
_A) The hot busty girl on the front desk.'_

' _Q) Least favourite part of the museum?_  
_A) The information.'_

 _'Q) Any suggestions for improvements?'_  
He considers writing ' _close down_ ' but figures that may be a little too harsh, so instead leaves that one blank.

He sighs heavily and leans against the cold wall behind him. He can see Sam, a distance away, his mane of hair bouncing around as he has one of his overly animated conversations about something nerdy (well, probably - this is Sam after all) with a random guy, whose hair was almost as long as Sam's but swept back.  _Funny_ , Dean thinks,  _he looks kinda familiar_.  He is trying to figure out why he seems to recognise him when he accidentally makes awkward eye-contact with the honey-eyed guy in question and looks away, cursing himself. 

Glancing around the room in an effort to look inconspicuous, Dean catches sight of a large painting depicting one man being held defensively by another. Upon closer inspection, he realises that one of the men has a halo and large wings, elegant but powerful-looking, curled protectively around the other man. As hard as he tries to resist, his mind instantly goes to him and Cas.   
Him and Cas.   
Him and Cas.   
Him  _with_  Cas.

"Hello, Dean."

 _Shit_.

Dean suddenly snaps out of his fantasy as he registers Cas' all-too-real presence beside him. He turns his head, in a daze, and stares at the face he had been daydreaming about, noticing how he is even more beautiful in real life: his lips softer, his hair more tousled, his eyes more magnificent. He wonders how it would feel to kiss those cheeks, to gently caress that jawline, to take that  _damn trench-coat off of him..._

"Dean?"

_Oh shit._

"Cas! Uh, h-hey buddy!" he stutters, hoping the angel would somehow fail to notice the shade of red that Dean's ears had turned.

Cas squints at him, tilting his head adorably in confusion. "Uh, hello, Dean," he repeats himself. Then he turns to look at the piece of paper in Dean's hands and his expression changes again. Dean follows his gaze and is horrified to find a whole page full of doodles of wings and halos and  _trench-coats_.  _His_  doodles of wings and halos and trench-coats. He must've turned the survey over and drawn them all while he was staring at the painting!

In a flash he flips the paper back to the side full of questions,  _praying_  that Cas hasn't realised what the doodles were of.

Of course, he has forgotten that Castiel can hear prayers.

"Why do you not want me to see your drawings, Dean? I thought you called me down here?"

_Shit, shit, shit!_

"Wha - uh, I, uh... I didn't..." he tries to form an excuse but his mind is a mess of broken fragments of thoughts, most of which were either expletives or images of Cas in... compromising situations.

"Oh...  _Oh_... It wasn't, um... accidental, was it, Dean?" asks Cas quietly, a blush flooding into his own face now.

Dean doesn't know how to reply. He doesn't want it to happen like this... Hell, he doesn't want Cas to find out about this stupid, ridiculous attraction Dean feels towards him at all! Or... does he?

"I - I - Cas, I..." he turns away to hide his face, but Cas just moves along the bench towards him until they are close enough that a fold of his trench-coat is resting on Dean's jeans. He has to say something, and fast. "It wasn't, uh, accidental," he lies, "I was wondering if you'd like to go around this museum with me - uh,  _us_ , I mean, with  _us_."

Just briefly, Cas seems unsure, but he replies, "Oh, okay Dean. I would like that very much."

"Great! Great..." he is aware of Cas trying to catch another glimpse of Dean's drawings as he hurriedly shoves the survey back in his pocket and stands up. He is not sure how much longer he could've taken sitting that close to Cas.

Sam strolls over just as Cas stands up too, far too close to Dean for it to look platonic...

"Castiel?! Guys?! What's...?" he splutters, glancing between the two of them, who are staring at each other with that look of longing in their eyes like usual. He often catches them doing this, or brushing each other with a hand 'accidentally', or staying there for just  _slightly_  too long when they hug. He has little doubt that they have feelings for each other, he just wishes they'd do something about it rather than build up so much sexual tension that they threatened to cause some kinda explosion.

"Uh, hey Sammy," says Dean, breaking eye-contact with the angel at last.

"Hello there, Sam."

Sam runs a hand through his hair awkwardly. "So you really  _did_  call him down from his Heavenly duties to go round a freakin' museum with you, Dean... I don't know whether to laugh or scream."

Dean weighs up his options - either he lies again and says he called Cas deliberately or admits to everyone that he was daydreaming about being in a relationship with him, and he is pretty sure which one he would rather go with. "I was bored," he says, trying to sound convincing, "And anyway, I thought Cassie might be interested in all this stuff, I -  _we_  - know how much he likes learning about humanity, right?"

" _Cassie_?!" repeats Sam, his eyebrows rising almost comically. "Since when do you call him Cassie?!"

Suddenly, Dean looks like he has been hit by a train. In actual fact, he thinks he would rather have been hit by a train than have to suffer the repercussions of this stupid slip-of-the-tongue. "God, Cas, I'm sorry, I-"

Cas looks almost equally as surprised as Sam, although there was just the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It-it's fine, Dean, don't... don't worry about it..."

Dean whisks around and holds his head in his hands. He really needs to compose himself, he's acting like a teenage girl around her crush, and Sam has clearly cottoned on to how Dean feels about Cas too... thank goodness Cas was practically oblivious to stuff like this. He is just wondering how this day could get any worse when Sam says, "Anyway, I'm done in this hall now. There's only one department left..."

Sam leafs through the pages of his leaflet until he finds the one about the final remaining department, and turns the booklet round to show Cas and Dean. "Oh, look at that," he says with a wink, barely containing his laughter, "The Department of Sexology."

"Oh yes,  _what a freaking coincidence_ ," hisses Dean, glaring at his brother. Yes, he has  _definitely_  cottoned on to how he felt about Cas.

"Well, it's this way," says Sam cheerfully, leading them out of the hall.

***

Totally unlike Dean, who has never felt more awkward in his life, Cas is as serious and stony-faced as ever upon entering the Department of Sexology.

It is all Sam can do not to laugh out loud when the angel points to a condom and enquires, "Dean, what is this strange piece of rubber clothing?"

Dean goes a brighter shade of red than Sam thought was humanly possible and is suddenly unable to form words. "It's, uh, a, um..."

"Dean?"

"It's a, a, a c--"

"It's a... a condom," wheezes Sam, no longer able to contain his laughter. "Tell... Tell him what it's... What it's for, Dean!"

"Wha--" Dean glares daggers at his brother. "You tell him, bitch!"

"Jerk," Sam giggles.

By this point, however, Cas has read the information and figured it out for himself, and the effect just makes Sam laugh even harder.

His eyes are wide and his cheeks are fast approaching Dean's standard of blushing as he fiddles around with the sleeve of his trench coat. "I... I understand now."

Sam tries to calm down, but the look on Cas' face forbids it and he creases over again.

"Dean, uh... If the purpose of sexual intercourse is to reproduce, why would you want to prevent..." Cas trails off as Sam practically  _convulses_  in his hysterics and is forced to stagger over to a bench on the other side of the room, clutching his stomach and trying not to hyperventilate.

Dean just looks positively horrified. He cannot believe he went along with this of his own free will. He cannot believe that Team Free Will have sunk so low. He is even almost beginning to weigh up how bad  _Hell_  really was compared to the current situation.

Concerned, Cas asks, "Dean, are you alright?" and places a tentative hand on Dean's shoulder.

This calms him a little and brings him back down to earth. He knows he is acting pathetic; he should seriously grow up about this and act like the adult he supposedly is. "Yeah, s-sorry, Cas... It's just a little, uh... Well, I've never had to explain any of this to someone before, especially not a, uh, a  _guy_."

"I'm not a 'guy', Dean, I'm an Angel of the Lord," he reminds him.

"Well, that just makes it all the more embarrassing."

Cas looks suddenly devastated. "I'm embarrassing you, Dean?! I apologise, I didn't..."

"No!" he cries, a little too enthusiastically. "No, I, uh... It's my fault, I'm just, uh, immature. Ah, c'mon..." sheepishly, Dean continues forward down the corridor made from glass display cabinets on either side. He can still hear Sam's almost painful-sounding laughter echoing across the hall.

Dean feels bad now, and comes to the conclusion that he owes Cas answers to his questions (of which he has a copious amount lined up) and when the angel asks, he tries his best to tell him.

Of course, Cas being so interested in humanity, he wants to stop and look at  _everything_ , which forces Dean to explain some rather... lewd items. With almost every new question he hears Sam explode into another fit of giggles, but he is past caring now.

After a while (and if he hasn't already) Cas attracts the attention of most of the other people in the room by asking, very loudly, what the use of a certain object was and why it was in this department...  _How do I explain why there are handcuffs in a Sexology Department to a freaking angel?! He'll never be allowed back in Heaven again if he finds out!_

But now, though they are trying to act as normal as possible, it is clear that the onlookers are waiting with both great amusement and second-hand embarrassment to see how Dean answers him.  _They're probably also wondering why an adult man is following me around asking very detailed questions about sex toys!_  
"Well, uh... Do you remember the pizza-man and the babysitter...?"

***

Sam doesn't even get to hear the rest of Dean's response, he is too busy giggling and wiping tears from his eyes. He does, however, see Dean usher him out of that area, hastily skipping past the cabinet that looks to Sam like it could be the prop department of  _Fifty Shades of Grey_. And...  _hold the phone...! Are they holding hands?!_

***

Dean has to get Cas out of the area full of kinky shit... he feels like he has robbed him of his innocence enough already. But Cas, fascinated by all of these unusual Earthly objects, is reluctant to leave, so Dean has no choice but to lead him out by force. He reaches out to take his wrist but instead finds the angel's fingers linking with his own - he must've gotten the wrong idea and now thinks Dean was trying to hold his hand!   
And as his heart rate accelerates at his touch, Dean is worried now that he is somehow taking advantage of Cas' naivety, but as he looks at the angel's face he is met a look of pure affection and happiness, and his heart melts. He gives his hand a gentle squeeze and smiles sheepishly.

***

Sam notices that there has been a mass exodus from the department, leaving Dean and Cas alone together, behind a display case and out sight from his viewing angle.

Squinting, Sam can see that the title of the area they were now in read 'Sexuality', and Cas was taking it all in, as he had with the rest of the exhibition.

Faintly, Sam hears Cas say,     
"Dean, can I ask another question?"  
"Sure, shoot, Cas," replies Dean, his voice soft and almost dreamy.  _At least he seems to have lost his inhibitions now,_ thinks Sam.   
"You see this, here, how there's all different names for kinds of people depending on the people they are attracted to...?" starts Cas, slowly.

"Uh-huh?"

"Why do humans feel the need to label themselves and others like that? If they... If they love someone, why does it matter who they are?"

Sam has long since stopped laughing now, and a hush has fallen over the room.   
A short while passes before Dean replies, almost in a whisper, three simple words that Sam can't help but think sound like a sort of epiphany.

"I don't know."

 _Maybe this is finally it_ , thinks Sam, holding his breath.  
***  
_Maybe this is finally it_ , thinks Dean. Cas' words have struck something in him and as he looks up into those brilliant blue eyes, his heart skips a beat and he knows what he must do. "Cas... Can... Can  _I_  ask  _you_  a question now?"

"Of course, Dean."

"If I told you... I love you, Cas... what would you do?" his voice is soft, almost terrified, and threatens tears, but it is also purposeful and utterly genuine.

"Dean... I... Do you mean...?" Cas stammers, taken aback.

Dean simply nods, words will no longer form in his throat that is tight from restrained tears.

"Dean..." Cas gasps, his eyes going wide and his lips parting slightly in shock.

***

Then there is silence once more. Sam cranes his neck to see past the corner, and is less surprised than he probably should be to see his brother and the angel holding one another, their hands moving over each other in a tender caress and their lips touching softly.

Suddenly, a voice whispers in Sam's ear in a childlike tone. "Did I do good?"

Sam turns around to find a man perched behind him on the back of the bench, his golden hair swept back and a smug grin playing on lips that held a lollipop. The Winchester gazes into his eyes, an enthralling mixture of whiskey, honey, caramel and sunlight.

"You did great," he nods, and leans up to kiss him. "The whole angel-painting-thing and all those doodles of wings and trench-coats was genius. Although, I didn't expect it to be  _this_  easy to get them to admit their feelings."  
"They don't call me Trickster for nothin', Samsquatch. Although, even  _I_  was impressed by the idea of taking them to a museum of sex," he smirks. "Now, do I get another smooch as a thank-- _mnh_!" Sam doesn't need asking twice; the Trickster's kiss is sweet, passionate and intoxicating and he can never bring himself to refuse it. "You're an eager little beaver, Sam," he breathes once they finally part again. "I  _like_  it."

Sam slips the lollipop back into the other guy's mouth. With a grin he nods his head to where Dean and Cas have only just finished kissing and are now just standing there, holding each other gently and staring at each other in sheer disbelief. "Shall we leave these two lovebirds to it and take  _this_  back to the motel?"

***

Dean and Cas just stare at each other. How long have they both been waiting for this moment? Did they ever think it would really happen?

"Cas... Cas, baby... I love you," says Dean.

"Dean... Why didn't you say something sooner? I... I love you too!"

"Cas, I... I just... You're an  _angel_ , Cas, and I'm a guy, and I didn't think I was gay, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship, and, and... Oh, Cas, I love you so much..." Dean grips the lapels of his trench-coat and slides his hands from the collar down his chest, where he brings them to rest. A tear begins to roll down the angel's cheek, and, tenderly, the hunter brushes it away with his thumb.

"Dean, I've loved you right from the start. Before you even knew I existed. And when I finally met you, Dean, I... well..." he clears his throat and shakes his head. "I apologise. I never expected you to have any feelings of this kind towards me..."

"Well, uh... I do," he smiles.

Suddenly, Cas takes Dean by surprise as he kisses him again. "God, Cas," he exclaims as they part again. "The, uh... The pizza man sure taught you well!" he laughs. "Shall we, uh, take this somewhere a little less awkward?"

Cas nods and, hand-in-hand, they step outside.


End file.
